


Justification for Atrocity

by WithTheKeyIsKing



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Asgardian Clint Barton, Asgardian Kate Bishop, Asgardian Wanda and Pietro, BAMF Clint Barton, Brief MPreg, Clint Barton-centric, Deaf Clint Barton, F/M, Infidelity, Kid Kate Bishop, Kid Pietro Maximoff, Kid Wanda Maximoff, Loki's Kids, M/M, Mind Control, Parent Clint Barton, Parent Loki, Parent Tyr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2018-06-09 20:26:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6922018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WithTheKeyIsKing/pseuds/WithTheKeyIsKing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint, a butcher's son on Asgard, meets Prince Loki.</p><p>His life - and that of Loki Odinson's - changes forever.</p><p>~<br/>**Previously titled "Ready, Aim, Fire", now titled after a Steven Erikson quote</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Destiny is a lie. Destiny is justification for atrocity. It is the means by which murderers armor themselves against reprimand. It is a word intended to stand in place of ethics, denying all moral context." -Steven Erikson

Clint Haroldson, the son of a butcher and a healer, was an exceptional marksman.

He discovered this skill quite simply, playing games with his mother when he was little in their small home. The two would bounce coins into jars, the one with the most in at the end winningClint always won; he never missed. His father called him a freak, called him not natural. His mother responded in the opposite; she told him it was a gift, that he should treasure and perfect his ability.

His mother, Edith was her name, worked in the castle as a healer. It was an important job, important enough that she often spent time talking with the Queen, Frigga. Now, this wasn't to say that Clint's family was well off or widely known. Harold, Clint's father, was a butcher from a long line of butchers. He was also a man with a drinking problem. Most of the money that Edith made in her important job went to funding Harold's drinking problem.

Sometimes, Edith would get a little extra money, and she would hide that fact from Harold. She chose to spend this extra money on Clint; she would buy him throwing knives made in the royal armory, or clothes woven from finer cloths than the ones he normally wore, or sturdy leather boots that Clint absolutely fell in love with. But Clint's _favorite_ gift from his mother was a long bow and set of arrows to go with it.

Whenever Clint wasn't working in his father's shop or doing random jobs for various people in his village to get a little bit of money, Clint would practice. He would sneak down to the royal archery lanes and run the courses. He always finished his training with a perfect score, every arrow hitting the target exactly where he wanted it to. It always made him feel amazing, seeing himself truly _be_ amazing at something, proving his father wrong that he _could_ do something right.

On Clint's fifteenth birthday, when Harold had already shuffled off to work (already drunk, at eight in the morning), Edith pulled him aside before she had to leave for her duties at the castle and handed him a small parcel. Clint opened it once she'd gone and discovered a pair of arm guardsfine, leather oneswrapped in a dark purple silk cloth that matched his favorite tunic perfectly.

Clint grinned and put the new arm guards on, marveling at how the fit was so perfect. He went into his room and grabbed his bow from under his bed, along with his set of throwing knives and arrows. He jogged down to the royal archery range, taking the shortcut through the woods so that he could get there faster and start sooner. As soon as he arrived, he started working.

He must've been at it for at least five hours when he heard the snap of a twig a bit behind him. He whirled around, bow string drawn back in a ready position (he'd come across too many men wanting to steal from him to let his guard down, especially if he had a weapon in his hand). Standing about twenty feet away was a young boy, probably about Clint's age, with black hair slicked back out of his face and bright green eyes, filled with a lot of intelligence and cunning.

"You've got quite impressive aim," the freaking _Prince of Asgard_  commented offhandedly. "Where did you learn?"

Clint lowered his bow and relaxed the string; it wouldn't look good to shoot Prince Loki with an arrow. "I taught myself." The prince rose his eyebrows in disbelief, but there was an interested gleam in his eyes as he walked closer to where Clint was standing. "I did; my mother bought me my bow and knives," he gestured to the set of throwing knives resting in the grass by his feet, "and I did all the rest. My mother says I have a natural gift." He felt defensive about it, and a little self-conscious.

The prince tilted his head with a small smile and stepped even closer. "You are Healer Edith's son, are you not?" Clint nodded. "She is a good woman, I have heard her speak of you to my mother." Clint smiled. "And like I said before, your aim is quite impressive."

Walking closer, the prince examined him intently. Then, with a decisive nod, the green-eyed boy said, "I think you could be truly great at more than just archery. Would you like to learn to be a warrior, Haroldson? You might be a Healer's child, but I see the soul of a warrior in you."

It didn't take long for Clint to think it over. The Prince of Asgard was currently offering him a chance to rise above his low-born upbringing and become a warrior of Asgard, like the young Prince Thor was currently training to be. What would that be likespending his days training in all forms of combat, having open access to a range instead of having to sneak off to the range during the small amount of free time Clint had? What would it be like to be able to truly stand up for himself and his mother when his father rose a hand to them?

Clint put the arrow back into his quiver and pulled his bow onto his shoulder. He collected his set of throwing knives, placing each of them in their specific positions and then rolling the case up and tucking it gently into the top of his quiver between the arrows. He walked up to the prince and smiled, giving a small bow as his mother had taught him. "I'd be honored to train as a warrior of Asgard. When do we start?"

Prince Loki grinned, a truly elated expression, and stuck out his hand, grabbing Clint's own and tugging him along. "Right now."

* * *

From that point on, Clint Haroldson and Loki Odinson were inseparable.

Loki took Clint to Odin and Frigga, explained what he had seen, explained Clint's gift. The Allfather was skeptical (Frigga wasn't; she could see Clint was a warrior just like Loki could), and even after Loki convinced his father to see Clint preform his skills, the king remained hesitant. Men chosen to train to be warriors of Asgard were usually the sons of other warriors or lords, born with the duty in their bones.

Clint was the son of a poor butcher, who himself was _also_ the son of a poor butcher. There was no nobility in his background, no warrior whose honor he could bring forth. Without that history, Clint would be more likely to fail.

But Loki was adamant. Clint had never had someone advocate on his behalf so strongly before, and there stood the Prince of Asgard, just short of yelling at the king because he wanted Clint to have this opportunity. And so, swayed by his youngest son and his wife, Odin Allfather granted Clint a place in training among the other boysincluding Prince Thorwho were training to be warriors and guards and protectors.

Almost immediately, Clint moved into the barracks with the rest of the boys in his age group. Most of them didn't know who he washe was just the butcher's boyand those who did were incredibly skeptical about why he was there, even though Odin himself had given Clint his spot. It didn't matter to Clint though, really; he knew he would prove himself as soon as they saw him shoot.

And prove himself he did. As soon as the group of trainees started in on marksmanship, he smoked them. He never missed a shot, no matter how difficult, no matter the weapon put into his hand. Bow, knife, javelin, crossbow, boomerang, dart, spear, throwing axe, slingshot...anything you could imagine, Clint could use it. He found, as they continued weapons training, that he was quite good with other weapons, as well, but since he'd never had any training in them, the skills needed to be perfected a bit.

The problem came when it was time for hand-to-hand training. Clint had never actually fought anyone before, and though he had very strong arms from his time working with a bow, he was a little small for his age, allowing the other kids to find him to be an easy target. Those days were very hard for Clint, and he would spend hours after everyone else had gone to bed working on his stances and trying to get bigger, stronger.

In those times, the only bright side of his days were the visits from Prince Loki. He didn't come everydayhe was a Prince, he had his own studies and duties to attend tobut whenever the black-haired boy could, he would. On these days, Clint felt stronger and braver, knowing that Loki was rooting for him from where he was sitting under a nearby tree.

_(He wasn't open about it, that would be un-princely. No, it was in the gleam in his eyes when Clint got in a good punch and the way he would bite his lip every time Clint was slammed into the mats. Loki, no matter what, was always in Clint's corner.)_

In the small amounts of free time Clint was given, he and Prince Lokino, just Loki; the black-haired boy had asked him to just call him by his namewould go on walks about the castle grounds, talking about anything and everything. Loki told stories about the times he had visited other realms on diplomatic missions with his parents and brother, and Clint described tales from his small town, delighting in the times he made Loki truly laugh.

Sometimes, the two young boys would even go to the royal library and read for hours on end, just enjoying each other's company. Clint's reading ability was somewhat lower than a normal kid's his age, and Loki was determined to fix that; he taught his new friend how to read the All-speak until he was perfect at it, and made sure that Clint wasn't lacking in arithmetic skills, either.

As the months turned into years, Clint quickly rose to the top of his class. He was a weapons expert, better with projectile weapons than anyone else and pretty amazing at all other weapons. There were only two people who could beat him in combat; Prince Thorwho found Clint's friendship with Loki amusingand a boy named Tyr, who was Odin's illegitimate son and Thor and Loki's half-brother. Tyr was one of the mostif not _the_ mosttalented hand-to-hand expert in the nine realms. Thor was stronger, but Tyr could beat the prince in single combat any day.

After forty years, when the pool of one hundred warriors had been narrowed down to forty-one, there was an induction ceremony. Everyone one of the former-trainees were put into groups: those becoming warriors of Asgardcalled the Einherjarthose becoming palace guards, those becoming Protectors, and those gaining titles as Gods of something, who would be of a higher rank of warrior, and could pick the position they wanted.

Thor (Clint had dropped the 'Prince' part over thirty years ago when Thor asked him to, calling him a true friend), Tyr, Clint, Ullr (an incredibly skilled hunter and Lady Sif's brother), and Bragi (a kind man with a talent for all things musical), were the ones gaining titles. The five spent time celebrating together before the ceremony, but Clint found himself wishing that it was Loki he was spending his time with, even though they had seen each other practically every day for the past ten years.

The day of the ceremony was a nerve wracking affair. Clint put on his favorite leather black and dark purple jacket that just about reached his knees, over a dark purple and black shirt and black pants, along with his favorite pair of leather boots. The other four men were wearing their best clothing as well, Thor decked out in his special armor and red cape.

Clint had heard a rumor that Loki was supposed to be gaining his title that day, too (Loki wasn't strictly speaking a warrior, but he was a master of magic and had been studying it since he was born, as well as an excellent fighter; he deserved the title probably more than any of them, in Clint's opinion), but whenever he'd tried to ask Loki, the prince had simply brushed him off and changed the topic.

So Clint had to wait until the ceremony to see his closest friend again, and he spent the entire time hoping that Loki was getting everything he deserved.

Right before the ceremony, when Clint was waiting outside the throne room doors with his friends, he saw Loki walking down the hall towards him, decked out in his best clothing as well. The green, gold, and blackLoki's chosen color schemelooked incredible on the black-haired man, as it always did. Clint couldn't help but grin at his friend and pull him into a tight hug when he was close enoughwhich Loki returnedand congratulate him on the fact that he was about to gain his godhood.

Loki, with a wide smile and soft eyes, returned the sentiment. He clasped Clint's hand tightly and didn't let go until it was time to enter.

All of the menforty-two, now, with Lokientered the large throne room together, in rows of six; the six becoming gods in front, then the ones becoming warriors, then the Protectors, then the palace guards. Every position was just as important as the last, but the set order was just the way things had been done for thousands of years, and it just made sense.

They all kneeled in front of the thrones where Odin and Frigga were sitting. Odin gave a speech about the valiant warriors joining the ranks of Asgard, and then began calling names.

He started with those becoming palace guards, going from the back to the front. When someone's name was called, they would stand and make their way to stand before the king and queen. Odin would make them say their oathsdifferent ones depending on the positionand then gift those becoming guards with their new armor and those becoming warriors of Asgard their medals that had their names and titles on them (very similar to a Midgardian dogtag).

Eventually, time came for Clint, Loki, and the others to receive their godships. Odin called _"_ _Bragi Gunlodson"_ first. He spoke mostly of Bragi's way with words, his talents with music and poetry. Odin gifted Bragi with a magic harp that could sound like any instrument Bragi wanted it to. Bragi thanked the Allfather in the traditional way reserved for this occasion. After saying his oath, a magic glow covered Bragi, and when it receded, his aura pulsed and everyone could feel that he was now the God of Music.

 _"Ullr Orvandilson"_ was called next, and the process was quite similar to what had happened with Bragi, but this time Odin focused on Ullr's vast skills of hunting and his affinity towards the cold and snow magic. He gifted Ullr with the spear Atgeir, a weapon that would sing with every animal it took down in Ullr's hunts. After thanking Odin and saying his oath, Ullr glowed with the same magic as before and then became the God of Hunting and Winter.

Clint came next. Odin called him forth and Clint stood, walking forward. He bowed to Odin and Frigga.

"Clint Haroldson; born to a butcher and a Healer. One of the few I personally chose to have trained. Found by my son, Loki, many years ago. You have incredible skill with a bow that is unparalleled anywhere else. Your abilities with any weapon that requires aim is unmatchable. You are a weapons expert, a talented fighter, and a cunning tactician. I am honored to know that you will be rising into godhood, and as a Lord as well.

"To you I gift even more enhanced eyesight than you already have-" the crowds chuckled, "-and the bow Ichaival. This bow can be used like any other, but if you should run out of arrows, all you must do is draw the string back and it will produce an arrow of its own. It can produce as many arrows at a time as you wish it to."

Overwhelmed, Clint almost forgot the words he was supposed to say (and out of the corner of his eye saw Loki smile knowingly), but after a moment Clint remembered them and said them, thanking Odin with heartfelt words and then proudly saying the oath that would bring him into his godhood.

Suddenly, Clint's body began to glow, and for a few moments all Clint could see was a bright golden light surrounding him, all he could feel was a sense of _rightness,_ and then it slowly receded, pulling away from the outside and into his very being. And Clint felt it in his bones, before Odin even announced it to the court, that he was now the God of Marksmanship.

As he stepped back into place, Clint marveled at his enhanced sight. Everything seemed so much clearer, so much brighter and sharper, and things in the distance that he would've had to squint to see before now appeared as easily as something just a few feet away. Glancing at Loki, his friend inclined his head respectfully, and Clint felt a thrill run through him.

Tyr, who had become a very good friend, was called next. He was praised on his incredible single combat abilities and his wise mind that was always able to judge a situation correctly, no matter how difficult. He was not gifted with a weaponhe truly had no need or want of one, and Odin knew thatbut with an extra amount of strength. He said his thanks and his oath and then glowed gold. When it faded, he was the God of Judgment and Single Combat.

Then was Loki.

Clint found himself beaming with pride the whole time Odin praised Loki's mastery of seidr and his incredible diplomatic ability. The Allfather also spoke of Loki's chaos and ferocity, a necessary force in the world for renewal and change. Odin then mentioned, with a teasing smile, Loki's affinity for mischief, which made the crowds laugh.

Clint held his breath as Odin brought forth what Loki would be gifted with. "Many years ago," the king began, "I locked away a weapon that was forged out of hatred and revenge, but became a weapon of truth and ancient magic. In its transformation, it sought out a soul to bond with, and it chose my youngest son." Clint heard Loki inhale sharply, as this was clearly news to him.

"This weapon was hidden in a vault that required five keys to open; I infused them with the powers of journeys, endurance, secrets, new beginnings, and brotherhood, respectively. As Loki mastered these things inside himself, he became worthy of each key. And now, on this day of celebration, I present him with the daggers Gram." Odin held out his hand, in which two gleaming, golden knives with black handles sat. "The weapon Gram, originally a sword, now turned itself into the weapon that best fits its chosen soul."

As Loki approached his father to take the beautiful daggers, Clint could see his hands shaking. The prince held the weapons reverently, looking up at his father as if he'd never seen him before, and when he gave his thanks it was with heart-wrenching sincerity. Clint wanted nothing more than to pull his best friend in a crushing hug and tell him just how much he knew Loki deserved those daggers.

When Loki spoke his oath, his back was straight and his head was held high, proud and confident in his own skin. He glowed gold and became of the God of Fire, Chaos, and Lesser Known Magics.

Last was Thor, the golden prince and always Odin's clear favorite above Loki and Tyr. Odin talked about Thor's accomplishments in battle and the fact that Thor was tuned in to the weatherlightning especiallybut Clint barely heard, too focused on the way Loki's hand slid into his own, grasping tightly like he never wanted to let go.

Odin gave Thor the hammer Mjölnir to no one's surprise (which Thor rejoiced over...loudly). The elder prince went quickly through the ceremonial thanks, as if it wasn't that important, and drawled out the oath. He glowed gold and became of God of Thunder.

The six newly made gods faced the crowds of people in the throne room as Odin announced them once again with their new titles, which caused the crowds to go wild with excitement. Clint could see his mother in the front row, grinning with pride and cheering just as loudly as everyone else was. Clint waved to her, and so did Loki, and she waved back.

When Odin made the announcement that the feast would begin very soon, all of the newly titled forty-two men and the rest of the nobles made their way into the dining hall to celebrate this special day. Clint and his five friends were placed closest to where the King and Queen were sitting; Clint sat between Tyr and Loki and across from Thor, Ullr and Bragi.

The feast lasted all night and into the early hours of the morning. By the time it was over, Thor, Bragi, and Thor's friend Volstaag (who had just become a warrior of Asgard) were very drunk (Clint was too, but he wouldn't admit it), and Ullr was decidedly tipsy. Loki and Tyr were the only two that seemed to have their wits about them, but Clint knew the two of them well enough to see the signs of alcohol affecting them.

After a while, Clint and Loki went off on their own, snatching an unattended bottle of booze for themselves. They made their way to a small balcony of the palace where they'd spent many evenings in the past. Loki showed Clint the Gram daggers, which Clint held very carefully, knowing how much they meant to Loki.

"That's the first time he's ever called me worthy of anything," Loki murmured, lightly stroking over the leather-bound handles of his new weapons. "Given, it was because this weapon chose me-" his voice cracked, "-but the words came out of his mouth nonetheless. And he sounded...like he meant them."

Loki looked up at Clint hesitantly, almost shy at the admission. Clint could do nothing but smile softly and hold Loki's face in his hands, looking at his with a steady gaze. "You are worthy of _everything,_ Loki," he whispered fiercely, meaning every word.

The prince's breath hitched and his eyes widened slightly, his lips parting. Clint felt his heart racing all of a sudden, his chest feeling tight, and he let his hands fall from Loki's cheeks to rest in his own lap. A flash of _something_ flitted across Loki's face, but Clint was too drunk to recognize whatever it was.

"We should go to bed," Loki said with a sigh, looking out at the beautiful Asgardian skyline. Clint nodded his agreement and, with a tight hug, bid his best friend goodnight.

Clint stumbled his way to his roomshe currently lived in the palace, but would soon be getting his own placeand put his new _(amazing, perfect, enchanting)_ bow on his desk and stripped out of his clothes, going to take a hot bath in his bathroom. After soaking in the tub for a good twenty minutes, Clint dried himself off and entered his room once again.

Only years of training kept Clint from yelling like a little girl when he entered his bedroomfully nudeto find Tyr sitting in an armchair by the fireplace. Tyr turned at the noise of the bathroom door opened and his lips parted, his eyes dragging up and down over Clint's figure. On a normal day, Clint probably would've covered himself immediately and chastised Tyr for entering his room unannounced, but at the moment Clint was bordering on shitfaced drunk and his mental processes were going a bit slower than usual. So, he just stood there for a few moments.

"What are you doing here, Tyr?" Clint asked, stumbling towards his bed. He must of been more drunk than he thought, because he didn't even hear Tyr move until he was right next to Clint by the bed. When Clint reached out to pick up his bed clothes and put them on, Tyr's hand landed on his wrist, stopping him from doing just that. Clint turned to face Tyr in confusion, only for Tyr's hands to fall and rest on Clint's hips, dragging him close.

"Tyr, what are you-" Clint tried to ask _what the hell was going on,_ but he was stopped by Tyr's lips crashing heavily against his. In his surprise, Clint's lips parted, and Tyr's tongue delved into his mouth. Clint sighed and melted into the kiss, letting Tyr manhandle him onto the bed. Tyr stripped out of his own clothes, holding Clint's hands above his head with one of his large ones.

Tyr grinded against Clint, groaning into the kiss, and separated Clint's legs, settling between them. Clint tried to move, to pull away a bit and catch his breath, but found that Tyr's grip on his wrists and on his side was too tight. Clint mumbled a protest into the kiss and Tyr pulled back a few inches and stared down at Clint with dark, lustful eyes.

"What is it?" Tyr asked, his voice husky.

Clint panted. "I..." Now that he had the chance to speak, Clint didn't really know what to say. Did he want Tyr to stop? Not really; Tyr was very attractive, and in his alcohol-covered mind this seemed like a good idea. But there was a part of him that really wanted to protest to this, that wanted to go and see Loki, that wanted it to be _Loki_ in his bed right now.

But Clint knew that that wasn't possible; Loki didn't like men, and even if he did, he was currently courting a woman named Sigyn, the daughter of a prominent lord and an old friend from childhood. He wasn't interested in Clint. Being with the black-haired prince wasn't possible.

Why not be with Tyr? Tyr was handsome, smart, kind...he was a good man, and Clint had had the suspicion lately that Tyr had wanted something more than friendship with him, and here was his proof. Yes, they were both a little drunk, but why should that matter? They were both adults, consenting to this, and Tyr clearly cared about him...

And Loki wasn'tand probably would never beavailable.

"Nothing," Clint breathed, "it's nothing."

Tyr smiled and nodded and then leaned back down and continued his movements. Clint closed his eyes, and for a second he considered picturing that is was _Loki_ above him, _Loki_ licking and sucking at his neck, _Loki_ moving across him...but that wouldn't be fair to Tyr, who _actually_ was with him, and it wouldn't be fair to Loki, either, because he just thought of Clint as a friend and would be offended if Clint used him like this. Besides, Tyr was broader and stronger than Loki would ever be, so it would've been hard to slip into a fantasy of the black-haired prince.

Instead, Clint melted into the movements and forced himself to forget about Loki for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) In Norse mythology, Ullr is Sif's son, not her brother, but I wanted to include him in Clint's age group so I made him her brother
> 
> 2) Yes, I know Loki isn't the god of Lesser Known Magics, but I didn't want him just being the god of Mischief - it didn't fit with the character I wanted to portray. And thank you to "Cartlin (AcaciaJules)" for the reminder that Loki is also the god of Fire and Chaos!
> 
> 3) "Gram" is a special sword in the "Loki: Agent of Asgard" storyline. Loki in the comic says: "To suffer the blade is to suffer all the truths you deny yourself. It always hurts. Sometimes it kills. And sometimes it saves your life." You guys should actually check Gram out it's pretty cool: http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Gram


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, he woke up surrounded by Tyr's body. He extracted himself from the hold and went to throw up in the toilet, the hangover from ingesting so much alcohol catching up to him. When he was finished, he washed his mouth out and then took a bath to ease his sore muscles; his bottom hurt, and his body was covered in bruises, mostly finger-shaped ones (his hips, thighs, and arms) and circular ones (his neck and thighs). Around his wrists were basically manacles of bruises, deep purple things from Tyr holding them far too tightly.

When the water turned cold and he could no longer just sit and relax, he pulled himself out of the tub and patted himself down to get rid of the water and pulled some loose clothing on; he wanted to go train to work through his soreness. When he stepped back into his room he found Tyr still sleeping on the bed, so he slipped out the door and down to the training grounds.

Clint guessed that it was about nine a.m. when he arrived at the fields, going by the position of the sun in the sky. He stretched first, then jogged, which turned into running. When he had worked up a good sweat, he slowed down and drank some water, then began working out again. He stretched some more, did some jumping jacks and push-ups, then ending it all by going to the range and shooting with his new bow for a bit.

Ichaival was perfectly balanced and the arrows just appeared like Odin had said they would, which was an incredible thing to witness. He found that he could vanish the bow, lowering it and dropping it to make it go away, and then could summon it right back to his hand upon need. A bow had always felt like an extension of his very being, and Ichaival felt the same way but times a thousand. He felt incredibly honored to possess it.

He was at the range until the sun was high in the sky, and his head was pounding incredibly hard from his hangover, so he decided to go back to his room, wash off, and go to the dining hall to get some food. When he was approaching a side door that led into the palace, Clint saw Tyr waiting for him. He slowed, concerned about what the older man would say, but just raised his chin and smiled slightly, raising his hand in greeting.

"Hello, Clint," Tyr said, his voice warm and filled with affection. "I was hoping that we could talk. Would you like to?"

After a second's hesitation, Clint nodded slowly. "Sure, Tyr, just let me change out of these clothes and I'll meet you in the dining hall. Sound good?" Tyr nodded, smiled warmly, and made to leave. When he turned, his eyes caught on the bruises on Clint's neck, and he winced briefly, but his expression was still kind, so Clint didn't let it make him uncomfortable.

Clint quickly ran a wet cloth over his skin to get rid of the sweat, and then changed into a long-sleeved blue tunic and black pants, along with his favorite boots; it was too warm outside for that clothing, but there was no way that he was going to show off the various bruises covering his body. There was nothing he could do about covering the ones all over his neck, so he would have to deal with the teasing his friends would give him.

The dining hall was mostly empty when Clint arrived, probably because everyone was still feeling their hangovers and were hiding away in their rooms to recuperate. Clint was glad, because it meant he had a longer time without people joking about the marks, and a quieter place to talk with Tyr, who was already sitting in the group's normal spot, waiting for Clint.

Glad that he'd worked through his sore muscles so that walking didn't hurt as much, Clint made his way over to Tyr. Tyr looked up from his plate when he sensed someone walking towards him, and smiled at Clint, the same warm smile he seemed to always wear when looking at Clint. It made Clint feel good inside, to be looked at with so much caring.

But deep inside, Clint allowed himself to acknowledge that it didn't feel half as good as winning one of Loki's small, perfect smiles.

"Hello, Tyr," Clint said kindly, sitting across from him with a smile. He thought about what he wanted to eat and it appeared on his plate. He took small bites of the food, not wanting to upset his stomach anymore than it already was, and drank lots of water from his goblet when it appeared as well. "I assume you wanted to speak to me about last night?"

Tyr nodded, looking pleased that Clint had brought it up first. "Yes, actually. I know that we had both had a lot to drink last night, so I understand if you want to put it in the past as a drunken mistake, but I just wanted you to know a few things before you made your decision; when I am inebriated, I lose a bit of control over my inhibitions and do things that I wouldn't normally do, but would want to...what I'm saying is that I have feeling for you, Clint, and to me last night wasn't a drunken mistake, the alcohol simply gave me the ability to do what I had wanted to do for a while.

"And like I said before, I completely understand if you wish to never again speak of our night together, if you want to just go back to being friends like we have been for years, but you must know that my feelings for you are true, Clint. You are handsome and funny and intelligent and kind and filled with compassion for everyone around you. And watching you fight, watching you use your bow, it's like watching a mage perform complex spells. It's incredible; _you're_ incredible, Clint, and I want the chance to be with you. I would like to court you, Clint. Will you give me that chance?"

Clint's mind was going a thousand miles a minute, just like it had last night before they had had sex. He thought through the same things he had thought through then; he thought about Loki, about how he really had feelings for Loki but couldn't have the other man. He thought about the warmth and affection in Tyr's eyes when he looked at Clint. He thought about how Tyr was an amazing man, and that it might not be hard to fall for hi. He thought about how Tyr could be very good to him, if he let him...

"Alright," Clint said, sounding a lot more decisive and sure than he felt. Tyr's eyes widened and his lips parted, looking very adorable, causing Clint to laugh. "My answer is yes, Tyr, I would be happy to let you court me."

Tyr grinned, wide and happy like he had when he was little, and then reached across the table. Clint extended his own arm and squeezed Tyr's hand when the man held his. Tyr continued to hold his hand as they ate, occasionally leaning across the table to give Clint a soft kiss, looking at Clint like he couldn't believe he was actually there, that he was _with_ Clint.

After the two finished eating they decided to go horseback riding through the woods at the edge of the city. Clint's horse was a beautiful dappled gray color with a bright white mane named Hawkeye, after the title his friends used to refer to him as. He'd gotten her after his first year training; his mother had pulled in a few favors from people she knew and had gotten the horse for him when it was just a young foal. Tyr's own horse, a pure black mare named Rulif, had been a gift from his father, Odin.

The beauty of Asgard always amazed Clint every time he went out to view it. Seeing it through Tyr's eyes was quite spectacular as well. Tyr could point out a bird by the specific sound it made, and call them down by imitating them. He knew small shortcuts that would lead to a clearing or a small stream. When Tyr brought him to a sunny clearing filled with purple and blue flowers, Clint's breath was taken away.

He dismounted and walked further into the clearing. When he was standing in the center, he closed his eyes and turned in a slow circle, spreading his arm out to the sides. There was a light breeze ruffling his clothes and the sun was warm against his face. He opened his eyes when he was facing Tyr again, a big smile on his face.

Tyr smiled back, full of warmth, and walked closer to Clint. He kissed Clint and Clint kissed back, wrapping his arms around Tyr. He ignored the green eyes that flashed across his mind, ignored the pang of longing, and just enjoyed being with Tyr.

The two laid down on the ground in a small spot bare of flowers, both removing their over-jakcets. Clint curled against Tyr's side and they traded lazy kisses through out the afternoon. They both fell asleep at one point, curled around each other, and woke up later as the sun was lowering in the sky. Tyr had been smart enough to bring food along on their trip, and he set out the beef, fruit, and wine on a small blanket on the ground and they ate, making small talk as they did.

As the sun dipped behind the trees, Clint and Tyr once again mounted their horses and made their way back to the palace. They arrived at the stable and politely dismissed the stablehand who offered his assistance, choosing to take care of their horses on their own. They each removed their saddles, brushed them, and made sure they had enough hay and water to be alright.

They walked to the single combat training area, hands brushing with each step. When they arrived they each removed their shirts and other extra clothing, leaving them both in only short pants that only reached their knees.

Tyr looked at the bruises that littered Clint's skin and winced, a troubled look in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he confessed. "Father gave me more strength with my godhood and I was not yet used to it, along with having been drunk. I didn't mean to hurt you so."

Clint smiled slightly and shook his head. "I'm alright," he told Tyr honestly. "I was a little sore, yes, but I worked the pain out, and you didn't truly hurt me. I'm made of thicker stuff than a few bruises," he added teasingly, bumping Tyr's shoulder with his own. Tyr smiled, relieved, and pressed a quick kiss to Clint's lips before stepping back.

After a moment they each took up ready stances, Tyr smirking at Clint, and began to fight. Tyr knocked Clint on his ass a few times, but wasn't rude or cocky about it, choosing instead to give Clint pointers on how to improve.

This is how their friends found them an hour later. At first, neither Clint or Tyr noticed that people were watching them, too focused on the fight they were engaged in. Only when Tyr had once against pinned Clint to the ground, grinning down at his partner and offering tips, did Clint turn his head and catch sight of Loki, Thor, and Ullr. Tyr followed Clint's gaze and smiled at their friends, then offered Clint a hand up.

Clint saw Loki's gaze drag across the bruises on his neck, hips, and the thick, dark ones around his wrists. The black-haired man's eyes narrowed and Clint shifted uncomfortably, but raised his chin, daring Loki to say anything about it. Loki blinked and looked away, and Clint was pretty sure he had imagined the look of hurt that flashed across his friend's face.

"Brother, friend Clint!" Thor's voice boomed as he strode forward. He grinned at the both of them, a knowing look in his eyes, and clasped Tyr on the shoulder. "I see that you have finally made action upon your feelings, Tyr. I am glad! You have pined for too long, and Clint is a worthy partner to have. You both have made the other very lucky!" He turned towards Ullr and Loki. "Loki! Ullr! Come and congratulate our friends!"

Ullr moved forward and smiled kindly at Clint and Tyr, offering a few quiet words of happiness for them. Loki stalked forward as well, giving the both of them a tight smile and a quick congrats, his hands clasped firmly behind his back.

Clint didn't know why Loki was acting like thatClint had been happy for him when he and Sigyn had begun seeing each other and when Loki had spoken of asking her to marry himbut frankly, Clint was too tired to try and figure it out. All he wanted to do was go back to his room and sleep, preferably with Tyrwho Clint _knew_ wanted himby his side.

* * *

_Four months later_

Clint felt _sick._

It was worse than when he was hungover or had eaten something rotten. It was worse than the nausea that came with his dizziness when he hadn't eaten enough. And it was lasting a lot longer than it normally did for any of those things as well. Practically every morning for the past month he had been woken up with intense nausea, and he was really getting sick of it (no pun intended).

Finally, Tyrwho had been incredibly sympathetic to Clint every morning this sickness had startedput his foot down and told Clint that he was calling a Healer. By this point, Clint had moved out of the palace and gotten his own place, a nice-sized house built close to the palace, right next to the stables and near the training grounds, so Tyr had to call a Healer instead of just taking Clint to one (plus, Clint was leaning over a toilet currently, too sick to move).

Ten minutes later, Tyr arrived with two Healers, Clint's mother and a friend of Edith's, a town Healer named Lor. Lor asked Tyr a few questions about Clint's condition while Edith went into the bathroom and held her son for a bit while he threw up. When Clint's stomach had calmed enough, Tyr and Edith helped Clint back into bed, even though he insisted that he was fine now.

Edith began casting some diagnostic spells over Clint. Clint protested the whole timehe'd never been good with allowing medical treatmentbut didn't try to stop his mother from running her tests. After about a minute, Edith paused in her movements and murmuring, her eyes widening slightly and her lips parting. She smiled and told Lor that she had everything under control, that it wasn't serious, and that he could leave.

"I have found the source of the daily nausea," she smiled at her son and his partner. "It's nothing bad, in fact it could be quite good, depending on your point of view. You're pregnant, Clint. It's rarer in a man than in a woman, of courseone out of tenbut definitely possible, and it seems that you are one of those with the ability to bare children. You always wanted kids, my son. I'm glad that you have this chance."

Clint's hand went to cover his stomach and a small smile took over his features. His mother was right; he _had_ always wanted kids. When he had discovered that he only liked men all those years ago, he had accepted the fact that he would probably never have kids of his own. But now here he was, pregnant with the child of a man he had grown to love _(not as much as Loki, never as much as Loki)._ It was...incredible.

Clint turned to look at Tyr, a large smile on his face. Tyr returned the smile with full force. He sat down on the bed next to Clint and held his hand, placing his other one over Clint's stomach as well. He looked at Clint with so much love, both for him and their unborn baby, that Clint couldn't help but think about how lucky he was.

Unbidden, his mind flashed to Loki. A few days after the godhood ceremony, Loki had proposed to Sigyn, and a month later they had been married. Clint had stood at Loki's side and watched as the man he'd loved since childhood professed his devotion to another person. If Clint had still been carrying any hope for Loki one day realizing that he liked men and wanted Clint, it had been crushed in that moment.

Loki was not his, and never would be. And Sigyn was a good, kind woman; Loki was happy with her, Clint thought. Maybe Clint could be happy elsewhere, too.

"Marry me," he blurted out.

Tyr looked up from Clint's stomach in surprise, his lips parting in a silent gasp of air. He looked up at Edith, who was looking at her son with such love and at Tyr with something very similar, and then back to Clint.

"Of course," Tyr said, his voice thick with emotion. "Clint, I would marry you over and over again if I could. I love you so very much." His smile widened. "So let's get married."


	3. Chapter 3

Their wedding was a small affair.

Usually, the weddings of any noble Lords and Ladies would be big, a planned event with hundreds of guests; even larger for sons of Odin (Tyr might've been illegitimate, but he was still Odin's eldest son). However, neither Clint nor Tyr wanted to be subjected to a large party and thousands of guests to make meaningless small talk with. No, Clint and Tyr wanted a simple event with friends and family.

They considered having it in the small and sunny clearing that they had spent the day in months agoa place they had returned to frequentlybut decided that they wanted that place to just be for them. Instead, they decided on having the ceremony on the water bank, a place Clint had always loved going to to clear his mind. They invited Edith and Odin and Frigga (Frigga wasn't Tyr's birth mother, but she loved Tyr all the same), and their close circle of friends, including Loki, Thor, Ullr, Bragi, and Lady Sif, who had begun to make a name for herself as a fighter.

Harold, who had called Clint names and slurs for years because Clint liked men, was not invited.

Another guest to the wedding was Lady Sigyn. Clint had met the lovely woman when he was a young boy. She had been visiting the town he lived in with her father, and had given Clint a gold coin when he made her laugh. They had reunited as friends when Clint had been training as a warrior. When she had begun seeing Loki, he had been happy for her, no matter the sadness that followed as well. Clint had been happy for her and Loki when they married, as he hoped they would be for him now.

The wedding took place a month after the proposal, when Clint was three months along. Clint had a small bump in his stomachbarely noticeableand Clint and Tyr had found out the child's sex just two weeks earlier; they were having a baby girl. The name Clint and Tyr liked the most so far was Kaitra, after a childhood story that Clint and Tyr had both always loved.

When the time came, Clint and Tyr and all of their guests made their way down to the water bank. Lights were floating in the air and there was a wooden arch with flowers woven into it. When the guests were all gathered around, Clint and Tyr walked down the make-shift isle together, arms hooked together. They were both smiling, glancing at each other from time to time.

Odin, as Tyr's father and the Allfather, was officiating the ceremony. "Today we have gathered, on the bank of the great waters, to bring together two men in the bonds of sacred marriage..." Odin went on to describe their friendship and time together, talking about each of their strengths and how they fit well together. He ended it with asking Clint and Tyr to speak their vows.

Clint went first, speaking the traditional words he had had memorized for a while, ever since he had proposed. "I, Clint Haroldson, take you, Tyr Odinson, to be no other than yourself. Loving what I know of you, trusting what I do not yet know, I will respect your integrity and have faith in your abiding love for me, through all our years, and in all that life may bring us."

Tyr's smile was blinding with its joy as he spoke the returning vow. "Clint Haroldson, I take you as my husband, with your faults and your strengths, as I offer myself to you with my faults and my strengths. I will help you when you need help, and turn to you when I need aid. I choose you as the person with whom I will spend my life."

Then, at the same time, Clint and Tyr spoke. “I promise to be your lover, companion, and friend, your partner in parenthood, your ally in conflict, your greatest fan and your toughest adversary. I promise to be your comrade in adventure, your student and your teacher, your consolation in disappointment, your accomplice in mischief. This is my sacred vow to you, my equal in all things."

They exchanged rings upon the final words. The one Clint put on Tyr's ring finger was a thick black band inlaid with shining silver stones. The one Tyr put on Clint's was a matching band inlaid with purple gems like amethysts.

When the rings were exchanged, the two men looked up at each other and then leaned forward, sealing their lips together in a kiss. Odin pronounced them husband and husband, and the small group of people cheered for them.

* * *

For their honeymoon, Clint and Tyr went to visit Vanaheim. They settled into a small cottage in a nice little town and spent the next six months there. They fished and planted a garden, helped build homes for other people in the town, did small jobs for anyone who asked it of them. They had a very nice time, getting away from it all; they enjoyed just being with each other.

The time came for Clint to have his baby. On a Tuesday, Kaitra Clintdottir was born. She had shimmering black hair and shining blue eyes like the sky. She was beautiful, and from the moment Clint and Tyr laid eyes on her, they loved her with everything they were.

They spent the next two years on Vanaheim, getting used to being parents and celebrating their marriage. Just after Kaitra's second birthday, they returned to Asgard with their baby girl.

Seeing Loki after such a long time aparttwo and a half yearswas like lifting a weight from his chest. A longing Clint hadn't even realized he'd been feeling released, and he relished in being able to see his best friend's face again. Loki grinned at him when he appeared from the Bifrost portal, pulling him into a tight hug that left Clint reeling with happiness.

He never wanted to let go. He wanted to sit down with Loki and talk for hours, just like they used to. He wanted to sneak off to that small balcony they'd spent so much time in and make up stories about all the people that walked past below them, a favorite game from their childhood. He wanted to clasp Loki's hand tightly in his own and listen to him read or babble about whatever new thing had caught his interest.

But all too soon, the pair pulled away from each other.

All of their friends immediately fawned over Kaitra. They all gave her gifts; Bragi presented her with a small flute, Ullr gave her a dwarf-made carving knife, Thor created a lightning show that made Kaitra laugh and clap her hands, Sif gave her a fine pair of red felt shoes, and Loki and Sigyn presented the little girl with a few children's books that Clint and Loki had always read together when they were younger.

Something in Clint clenched when he saw the books Loki had chosen, that familiar longing spiking in his chest, but he simply smiled and said thank you to his friends.

Kaitra grew quickly, or at least it felt that way to Clint. She was full of fire and strength as she got older, and took an instant liking to the bow, just as Clint had. Tyr taught her to fight and she became excellent at that, as well, and soon she was beating almost everyone she fought in hand-to-hand and in archery; she was the daughter of the god of Single Combat and the god of Marksmanship, after all.

Their daughter had just turned fifteen when Loki and Sigyn announced that Sigyn was pregnant. Clint was overjoyed for his friends; he knew how amazing it was to have a child, knew how full of love you always felt when you looked at your child, and couldn't have been happier for the two of them.

Sigyn was only six months pregnant when Loki appeared at Clint's front door, drunk, crying, and out of breath from running to Clint's house. Tyr was out hunting with Thor and he wasn't expected back for a few days, and Kaitra was asleep, so Clint invited Loki in. Clint fixed a cup of tea and gave it to his oldest friend, waiting in silence as Loki stared at the fire in front of them with a distraught expression.

Loki went on to describe that the Norns had shared a prophecy; Sigyn would give birth to triplets, and those children would play a part in the end of the world. Odin was going to take Loki's babies away from him as soon as they were born, and Loki didn't know what to do.

He began crying in earnest, broken sobs that clenched at Clint's heart, and Clint pulled the black-haired man into his arms, doing his best to console him. Clint promised that he'd do whatever he could to help Loki and Sigyn, but the archer was incredibly unsure of if there was anything he _could_ do.

At the moment, Clint just held Loki tightly and murmured soothing words to the prince as he stroked a hand through the black strands of his hair. It felt like the only useful thing to be done.

The next three months passed quicklyfar too quicklyand soon Sigyn was giving birth to two boys and a girl, whom they named Jomungand, Fenrir and Hela. The three children grew far more quickly than normal children would, and by the time Odin and his guards broke into Loki and Sigyn's home four hours after the birth, Jomungand, Fenrir and Hela already looked like they were four years old.

Sigyn and Loki begged Odin to spare their children and Clint stood in front of the newborns protectively; he fought, taking down the warriors that tried to force their way in, but the guards kept pouring in and in the end they overpowered him.

Odin said that he wasn't going to kill the children, just lock them away where they couldn't hurt anyone. Hela was sent to Helheim to rule there, as her magic connected with the space between the alive and the dead; Jomungand was locked into the oceans on Midgard, forced to circle the world forever; and Fenrir was bound with an unbreakable dwarf-made chain called Gleipnir on the island Ingvi.

Loki and Sigyn never got over the kidnapping of their children. Years passed and Clint could see Loki become something different to keep himself going. The youngest prince was mischievous and cunning just like he'd always been, but there was a darkness in him now that hadn't been there before, a resentment towards his father and all of Asgard for letting it happen.

Clint and Tyr's life went on, but Clint couldn't help but mourn for the three children that Loki lost. Clint couldn't imagine what he would do if Kaitra was stolen from him by the king, and it made it a thousand times worse that the king was Loki's father. When Clint became pregnant again, he was so upset about it because he already got to keep his daughter and Loki lost all three of his children. How could he have more children of his own when Loki got nothing?

Surprisingly, when Clint voices these thoughts after three months of pregnancy, Loki was the one to stop them from consuming Clint. He made Clint realize what a gift having another child was, and that Loki was so happy for Clint, that Loki wanted nothing more than for Clint to be happy with his family. It was then that Clint made one of the biggest mistakes of his life, and at the same time, one of best memories he would ever have.

He leaned forward and kissed Loki.

For a few seconds, Loki was frozen; he didn't pull away, but he didn't return the kiss either. Clint began cursing himself outand cursing the fucking mead he'd had way too much ofand started to pull away, but Loki followed him with a desperate sound as he moved back, his lips pressing firmly against Clint's own. He wrapped a hand around the back of Clint's neck and kept him from pulling away any more than he already had.

Clint didn't need to be told twice; he kissed Loki back with a fierce passion, his years of longing and wanting pouring into the kiss.

The two spent the night together, and Clint couldn't bring himself to regret it. He felt unbelievably horrible; he hated himself for betraying his husband, but he really couldn't say he regretted sleeping with Loki. He had loved the black-haired prince since he was a small child and he didn't think he would ever stop.

And apparentlydespite everything Clint had ever believedLoki wanted to be with him, too.

Tyr didn't think anything of it when Loki stepped up his presence in their lives, especially when it came to taking care of Clint in his very pregnant form. Tyr just attributed it to Loki wanting to be part of a child's life since he'd lost his own, and moved on.

Six months after Clint and Loki slept togetherwhich they hadn't done again sinceClint gave birth to a silver-haired boy, which he and Tyr named Pietro. The strange thing was, when Clint had finished giving birth, there was still another life inside him.

Edith did a diagnostic spell and told them that yes, Clint still had a baby inside of him, a little girl who would probably not be born for another three months. She couldn't say whyClint could see in her eyes that his mother knew whatever it was, but didn't want to say anything in front of his husbandjust that they'd have to wait a little longer for their other child.

Tyr was overjoyed to learn that they would be having another child, and didn't for a moment question the oddities of magical pregnancies.

Clint didn't get a moment alone with his mother for the next two weeks, but eventually, Tyr left his side to go and spend some time with Thor and Hogan, a Vanir man they'd met during their honeymoon and who had come back to Asgard with them. As if knowing that Tyr was gone, Edith appeared at their front door, entering and coming to sit by Clint in front of the fireplace.

"Your daughter wasn't born with her brother because she was conceived at a later date; three months later, actually. And I do not sense your husband's presence in the child, but I do sense Loki's. I will not reveal your secret, my son, I only wish for you to tell Tyr before this ruins you." His mother's words were said softly and kindly, her compassion clear on her face, and Clint was so grateful that he could not see any disappointment in her expression.

Over and over again over the next three months, Clint tried to tell Tyr about the fact that their baby girl was actually Loki's, but every single time he chickened out. The marksman was so terrified that Tyr would leave him and he'd be alone, that one of the men he loved would hate him forever and abandon their children. Clint truly loved Tyr and he didn't know what he would do if he lost him.

It was a week before the baby was due when Clint finally came clean with his husband. He explained that Loki had been comforting him about his fears, that they'd both been drinking and that it happened so fast. He never said that he regretted _doing_  ithe couldn't bring himself to lie to Tyrbut he did tell his husband how much he regretted doing this _to_ him, to their family.

Tyr was silent through the entire explanation. He simply stared at Clint, who did his best to meet Tyr's eyes but couldn't more than a few glances. Tyr stared at him long after Clint's voice had died off, stared at him with a dead expression that _Clint_ had put there. Tyr, his wonderful, lively, expressive husband was looking at him with dead eyes and Clint could not handle the fact that he had done this. Tears began to fall from his eyes.

"Do you love him?" Tyr asked, his voice flat.

Clint would not lie to Tyr; he had kept this hidden long enough and his husband deserved the full truth. "Yes." His voice was barely a whisper.

Tyr didn't look surprised by this news, only accepting. "Do you love me?"

Clint's head snapped up to look directly at his husband. "Yes!" Clint rushed to say. "Yes, Tyr, I love you. I love your smile, and I love your kindness, and I love how you make me feel. I love your skill, your patience when we disagree, your steady mind and your good heart. I love what we have and I love our family.  _I love you,_ Tyr. Never doubt that this is true."

His husband, his wonderful husband, looked away for the first time since this discussion started, staring out the window. Clint stayed silent, waiting for what Tyr would do. In the end, Tyr said nothing else. After three minutes of staring out the window of their home, Tyr stood up and walked towards the door, opening it and striding out.

Clint immediately popped to his feet, panic running through him, and tried to follow after Tyr. But Clint was nine months pregnant and could not move quickly. All Clint could do was watch as Tyr walked away from their home, away from him.

* * *

Clint gave birth to his daughter without Tyr by his side, the first birth where his husband was nowhere in sight.

Clint knew where he was; or, at least the _realm_ he was in. The morning after Tyr left, Ullr came to his home and told him that Tyr had gone hunting with Hogun. The other man did not know when they would return, as they had not told him, only that they had taken the Bifrost to Vanaheim.

So instead of Tyr next to him, holding his hand as he gave birth, Loki and Ullr were there. Loki sat by his side and murmured soothing words, rubbing a cold cloth across his sweat-covered forehead. Ullr stood by the bed, almost as if standing guard to protect Clint. Edith delivered the baby, giving him elixirs to lower the amount of pain.

It was a hard birth, different than the two before it. He bled a lot more than he had in the past, lost energy a lot more quickly too. The baby girlWanda, they named herwas born healthy, with a few wispy brown hairs on the top of her head and hazel eyes that shown brightly and intelligently. But while his daughter was perfectly fine, Clint's health was rapidly declining.

Loki never left his side, worry creasing his brow as he continued to bring cold cloths to try and cool Clint down; Clint had a horrible fever, even though he was shaking with the cold that he felt. Edith didn't leave either, constantly with him as she did whatever she could to get him better. None of it seemed to work.

Clint knew there was a large possibility this would kill him. Clint had grown up hearing all types of stories from his mother about different things she had healed, so he knew how difficult it was to come back from a particularly difficult birth. Too much blood lost, too much energy gone, the body trying to protect itself and only succeeding in making the condition worsen.

The archer tried to bring it up with Loki. He needed to have the 'if I die...' speech with someone close to him and with an important roll in his family, but Tyr wasn't there. It had been almost two weeks since Tyr's disappearance. Clint was dying, and his husband was nowhere in sight.

Loki shut down the conversation anytime Clint brought it upthe prince was refusing to even consider the fact that Clint would die. So, in one of the rare moments that Loki left his sideEdith had to have him forcibly removed by guards to go take a shower and get a few hours' restClint called Kaitra to him. His brave, strong daughter sat with him and his mother as he explained to them both what he wanted to happen if he died.

He told them about the money he had stashed away just in case of an emergency, about how he wanted Pietro and Wanda raised with family, with both Tyr and Loki in their lives, as well as Edith and Kaitra themselves. He wanted his children raised with as much affection as possible, with the care they deserved because of their station. He wanted Wanda to have all the options open to her that the daughter of a prince would have, as well as anything Pietro wanted, seeing as he was the son of two gods. Kaitra was already a well respected member of the noblesthey called her 'Bishop' because she was the overseer of the would-be warriors who were at the beginning of their trainingso he knew she would be alright.

Clint worried about Loki, though. The dark-haired man always got a pained, terrified look in his eyes when he saw Clint lying sickly on the bed. He held their daughter with such love, such devotion, but he seemed afraid whenever she was in his arms. Loki'd had three children stolen from him right after they were born, and it was clear that Loki was so afraid that it might happen with Wanda.

Pietro, only three months old, was quite attached to Wanda. Wherever she was placed, Pietro would find his way and stay by her side. Edith suggested that it probably had something to do with the fact that they'd shared a womb, and Clint really loved how quickly they'd formed a connection. Kaitra, as well, loved her little siblings with a burning passion that Clint knew meant she would protect them with her life.

One day, maybe five days after the birth, Loki abruptly stood up from his spot next to Clint's bed and untangled their hands. Clint made a sound of protest, weakly reaching out for the prince, and when Loki turned to look back at him, his expression was thoughtful and distant. He forced a smile at Clint and then pressed a soft kiss against the archer's sweaty forehead. "Don't worry," he whispered, "I'm just going to...take a walk."

Five hours later, Loki returned with a determined expression that transformed his exhausted features into something more alive, something that more resembled the Loki Clint knew best. He looked at Clint critically, as if waiting for something to happen, and Clint didn't know what. Normally he would've cracked a joke to get Loki to open up, but he simply didn't have the energy to.

Very soon after, Clint felt his heart start pounding in his chest. He gasped for air as his lungs refused to work and his whole body burned with an unnatural heat. His head pounded and his vision went white, his ears ringing. He could hear Kaitra yelling and Edith trying to remain calm. And then there was a hand carding through his hair and strong arms holding him tightly and Loki whispering _I love you_ over and over again.

When his heart stopped, Clint actually felt it. There was a hollowness in his chest for the last few moments of awareness had, and his last thought was that these symptoms weren't really ones associated with a bad birth. Then he slipped into the thick darkness waiting to pull him under.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (As of 3-9-18)  
> Yay new chapter!
> 
> Just so you guys know, I did a LOT of editing to chapters 1-3, so there's a good amount of new stuff in there as well as some stuff taken out. I would suggest rereading those chapters before this one, just because there's new material and minor plot points.
> 
> Enjoy!

Clint felt utterly calm.

He was floating, weightless, peaceful, as if he was in a pool of water. His head didn't hurt anymore, his lungs weren't desperate for air, and his body was no longer turning to fire from the inside out. He simply... _existed._

It wasn't dark where he was, but it wasn't light, either. There was no warmth but no cold, no sound but no silence, no pain but no lack of it, either. In this limbo state he simply _Existed_ and no mortal things could touch him.

Suddenly

He felt a tug in his chest, as if someone had tied a string around his heart and was _pulling._ If he could he would have frowned, because sensations did not belong in this Other Place and yet there it was. And then the feeling spread, and each limb, each finger and each toe, each nerve and blood vessel, was held by something that wanted him to move, to go somewhere.

There shouldn't be a Somewhere Else. All there was was this Other Place in which you only had to exist, only had to be.

But the strings were very insistent.

Then there were voices, and they grated his ears because sound should not be happening, sound did not belong. And then his lungs expanded but that shouldn't be happening either because there was no need for breath in this Other Place.

 _You're insane,_ Clint heard one of the voices say. If he could've winced, he would have. The voice was too loud and too angry and anger had no place here. _Do you even understand the forces you're messing with?_

 _You have_ no right _to criticize my actions,_ another person snapped back. In his chest, Clint felt his blood pump. No, no, no, hearts did not work here, blood did not move. This should not be happening. _Where were you, exactly, while he was dying? I did what had to be done to save his life._

A far off thought told Clint that he did not want these two people fighting. Past the fact that fighting Did Not Belong, past the fact that fighting Should Not Be Here, those two voices were not supposed to hate each other. Clint did not want them to hate each other.

Someone laughed bitterly. _What had to be done?_ That first voice growled. _Do you know what you're doing? Life and Death is not a game!_ Magic _is not a game!_

The second person barked out a harsh laugh. Clint could feel his limbs now, which was Wrong. He was not supposed to have hands or feet or legs or arms or a head. _Don't act like you understand_ anything _about magic. You've spent some years around me and now you think you know everything?_ I _actually know what I'm doing, you fool, so sit back and let it be._

There was a long silence. Clint's heart was steady now and his body began to feel numb, then tingly, then warm. Warmth should not be, it Should Not Be, and Clint would've screamed in frustration if he didn't know that screaming had no place here, either.

 _What did you do?_ A third voice murmured. _You left for hours, and then returned right before he passed. While Kaitra yelled and I tried to save him, you simply sat with him and held him. What did you do while you were gone, Loki?_

That name. _That Name._ Clint felt panicked, because that name should be far away, that name should be far away from this Other Place. If there was a Somewhere Else, then that name should remain there and never come to this nothingness. Clint's heart sped up and his breathing quickened, because that name was supposed to be safe, very safe.

 _I am a god made of Magic and Chaos,_ That Name replied, voice steady and sure. _I walk in the balance of Renewal and Change. I upend the rules that do not suit me to make way for a new path of Being. I am the Silvertongue, the Fire-Bringer, the Liesmith, the wielder of Gram and the guardian of Chaos. And I would tear apart the entire fucking_ Nine Realms _if it meant that he would continue to live._

Clint could feel something underneath him. But that wasn't right; there were no objects in this Other Place. There should only be his existence. But there was sound and a body and a soft thing and now light was beginning to appear, violent just past his eyelids, and that was Wrong, that was Not Right. What was happening? Why was the Other Place being invaded?

 _Norns,_  the first voice breathed. Clint could feel himself breathing, too. Could feel himself not just Existing but actually being Present, and what an odd feeling after so long in Otherness. What was this strange Somewhere Else and why was he here? _Norns, you fucking. Fuck._

 _Very articulate,_ That Name drawled. The voice was deep and familiar and Clint could hear the undercurrent of strain, the undercurrent of nervous fear, and Clint wanted nothing more than to sooth the other being, because he was there, wasn't he? Whatever this Somewhere Else was, they were both there, so it had to be alright, didn't it?

 _How will we know if this works?_ the third voice asked calmly. Clint felt a careful weight come down next to his legshe had actual legs!and almost screamed from the sensation when a hand grasped his tightly. It was Too Much, he wanted the Nothing back, his nerves seared with every brush of that soft skin, it burned, it felt amazing, it froze, it felt like coming home.

 _He needs to come back,_ That Name said simply, almost blasé. Clint could hear the shaking quality. He wondered if the others could.  _T_ _he Path is there, and my seidr has led him to it. But only_ he _can pull himself back the rest of the way._

There was a shuffle of clothing, and the weight by his legs lifted, the hand removing itself from his own. _We should all get some rest,_ the third voice told the others. _My son is strong, but this could be a long journey._ The voice paused. _I suppose all we can do is wait._

Footsteps, then a door opening and closing. There should not be doors. There should not be footsteps.

 _Loki..._ the first voice sighed. The room fell silent. The first voice sighed again and then said,  _Edith is right; we all need some sleep, and even you don't look like you know how long this process could take. I sure as Hel don't. Let's go._

 _I'm fine here,_ That Name said after a brief pause. _But yes, please do go; leaving when he needs you, it seems, is something you're very good at._

Clint heard a growl of frustration as a pair of soft footsteps headed towards him. A chair by his side creaked and a cold hand with long, thin fingers grasped his. It did not hurt as much this time.

 _There is no way I could have known-_ the first voice began, sharp with frustration.

 _But you_ did _know that he would give birth soon,_ That Name shot back. Clint wished they wouldn't fight. _You_ did _know that he was only a week off from pushing a_ person  _out of his body, something that has killed many people before. He's your_ husband, _you should have_ been _here-_

 _As if you weren't glad!_ the first voice yelled. Clint heard That Name inhale sharply from next to him. _It was your child and you got to be by his side the entire time, no pesky_ husband _in the way, no one stopping you from coming in and being the knight in shining armor-_ suddenly the first voice cut off. _I-_ he sounded surprised at himself, almost appalled. _I'm sorry, I didn't mean-_

 _Do you really think so little of me?_ That Name murmured. _I understand your anger and your pain, and I would feel those things too in your position, but is it really your belief that I took any pleasure out of your absence? He was a_ wreck _because you left, and seeing him in pain is the worst thing in the world. Yes, I was happy that I could be there for the birth of my child, be there for_ Clint, _but I would've stepped back in a_ second _if_ you _had been there like he wanted you to be, your child or not._

First voice sighed, tired and world-weary, and a weight settled by Clint's legs. _Thank you,_ first voice whispered after a moment. _I don't know what you did or how you did it, but if it brings him back, if it makes him ok, somehow...I could never express my gratitude enough._

 _It was not done for you,_ That Name said quietly.

The first voice huffed a little laugh. _I am aware. You did it because you love him more than anything in existence, and you would tear apart the world if it meant that he would continue to live._

In his mind, Clint could picture a wry smile paired with green eyes, and a returning tired smile paired with brown. _At least we have something in common, dear brother,_ That Name said sardonically. The first voice hummed an amused agreement.

The room fell silent for a while, and it felt comfortable, safe, and Clint wanted to smile because they were at peace and they were waiting for him.

 _What are we going to do when he wakes up?_ That Name asked quietly, stroking his finger across Clint's knuckles.

 _He loves you more,_ the first voice said simply. That Name made a sound of protest, but the first voice stopped him. _No, it's true, I know it is. And I was an idiot, all those years ago, to pursue him. You two were inseparable ever since you found him and gave him a chance to be more than what his status would have ever allowed him to be. I would never have looked at him twice if you hadn't gifted him that, if you hadn't fought for him. And you two..._ he sighed.  _It was clear from the moment we met him that you twoit was like you orbited each other. Always angled slightly together, always within line of sight with each other, and when you guys fought side by side it was fluid and so natural. I was..._ he laughed quietly, self-deprecating. _I was an idiot to ignore all of that. I used the fact that you were with Sigyn as an excuse, but it was a stupid excuse. It was always going to be the two of you._

The room, once again, fell silent. Then, in a voice so quiet that Clint barely caught the words, That Name said, _I'm so sorry, Tyr. I truly, truly am._

Tyr. Tyr, Tyr, _Tyr._ Words bubbled in Clint's throat and he wanted to force them out, he _tried_ to force them out, but his lips would not part and his tongue would not move so he stayed silent instead.

 _I know, little brother,_ Tyr replied softly. It was Tyr, that was Tyr, Clint knew who Tyr was, not just first voice but a person, a good man, that was Tyr, Tyr, Tyr. _I know._

That Name squeezed Clint's hand, but it wasn't just a name it was _Loki._ It was Loki, Loki, Loki and Clint had never before wanted to cry as much as he did right in that moment, because Loki was there and with him and had _come for him_ and hadn't left him in the Other Place and all Clint wanted was to be held by thin but strong arms because Loki was _right there_ and within reach. Clint couldn't get out a sob.

"I love him," Loki murmured.

"I know," Tyr said again. "You love him more than the Nine Realms could ever understand. Which is why I can't even put up a fight." He paused, and Clint could so easily picture the heavy, intense look in his eyes for this. "And _I_ love him more than anything in my world. Which is _also_ why I won't even put up a fight."

The weight by his calves lifted as Tyr stood. "The moment you stop making him happy, Loki, is the moment I will be right here, protecting him. I will _always_ protect him. Which means you better be _very_ careful with how you treat him."

I would _never-!"_ Loki began, hurt and appalled.

"I know," Tyr said once more, hints of amusement in his voice. "But if anyone is allowed to give the shovel talk, I believe it should be me." He walked further away and opened the door. "I'll come by and check in every once in a while." Then, he was gone.

After a few moments, Loki leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to Clint's forehead. "Wake up, Clint," he whispered in a broken voice. "Come back to me. Please, _please_ come back to me. Our story is not yet done, do you understand? Our story is so very, _very_ far from over. It's like he said; it was always going to be the two of us. We're not done. You have to find your way back. Come back to me."

By the end, Loki was crying, and Clint was desperate to reach out, to speak, to tell his prince that he would always, _always_ come back to him, no matter how far or how long they were apart. But there was a final barrier, there was a murky _thing_ above him and Clint swam desperately towards the surface, desperate to hold and to love and to exclaim that _yes, I came back to you! You found me, Loki, you found me and I will always come back!_

"Please," Loki whispered against his hair.

Clint opened his eyes.

* * *

The real world was brighter than Clint remembered it being.

A large window off to his right was letting in quite a lot of light, making the archer want to squint and wince after so long in nothingness. The pale sun was high in the sky and Clint had a vague curiosity about how long he'd been Away, because he remembered it had been early evening when his body had burned and then stopped all together, and Clint had to estimate the current time to be maybe noon.

For a few moments, he simply breathed. He opened and closed his mouth, wiggled his toes, blinked his eyes. He had control; he was actually _Present_ and not _Other._ A wave of unbelievably intense relief washed over him and tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, his throat thick with emotion.

Pressed against his side was Loki. The prince was half-sitting in the chair, half-lying on the bed. His head was resting atop Clint's and one of his legs was placed on the edge of the bed. It was like Loki wanted to actually curl up beside him, but had restrained himself from doing so for some reason, and had instead settled into this odd, half-touching position.

"I will always come back to you," Clint croaked, his throat stinging and raw.

Immediately, Loki's head jerked up, eyes wide and mouth agape. Clint smiled tiredly at him and moved his hand over to grasp the prince's own. He felt weak, so his grip wasn't as strong as it normally would be, but Loki made up for it in the bone-crushing hold he returned to Clint's hand. Tears were welling in Loki's eyes.

Suddenly, Loki's entire body jolted, and he pulled his hand free of the hold. The prince began moving his hands over the length of Clint's body, and the marksman easily recognized the motions as those of a diagnostic spell. When he was done, Loki slumped, boneless in his utter relief, and then pressed his face to Clint's chest. Clint could the taller man shaking, and he lifted a hand to stroke soothingly through the black strands of hair.

"I'm alright," he whispered. "I came back to you, Loki. You found me, and I came back. I will  _always_ come back."

Loki lifted his head and his eyes searched Clint's, as if seeking reassurance that it this was real, that it was actually happening. The expression on the strong prince's face made tears sting Clint's eyes, and he cleared his throat to try to press down the sudden thickness in it.

For another few moments, Loki held his gaze, and then he surged forward, capturing Clint's lips in a searing, desperate, passionate kiss. Clint keened and grasped Loki's face in his hands, holding him tightly and kissing back like it was the only thing in the world that mattered. And in that moment, it really, truly was.

"You found me," Clint said brokenly when Loki pulled back.

Loki looked at him and said, "Of course," as if it were the most obvious, basic fact in the universe. "I will  _always_ find you. Clint, I will always,  _always_ find you." His breathing stuttered as he stroked the marksman's cheek. "You came back to me," he whispered, as if saying it any louder would make it not true.

Clint grinned at him. "Always will. Besides, sounded like you went through a lot of trouble to get me here; would've been a shame to let all that hard work go to waste." Loki grinned back, wide and overjoyed, and kissed Clint again.

"What happened?" Clint asked when they separated. "I mean, I heard your conversation from a few minutes ago with Tyr and my mother, about me dying and you doing something otherworldly to get me back, but I wasn't exactly able to ask questions, so..."

Loki frowned at him. "A few minutes ago?"

"Yea," Clint nodded, confused by Loki's confusion. "Tyr was angry and you were snappy and Edith was trying to stay calm, and then when they left you begged me to come back to you." He smiled softly. "How could I say no?"

"Clint," Loki murmured, shaking his head. "That conversation...Clint that was three weeks ago. You've been like this for almost a month."

"But..." The marksman's words trailed off. He thought back to The Other Place, to the murky something that he'd forced his way through to get back to Loki. Had he been in the murkiness for three weeks? It had been a struggle, but it had felt like mere moments.

"Oh," he said quietly. "Well, I'm here now."

Loki let out a startled, broken laugh. "Yes," he said, eyes gentle and fond. "Yes, you are, thank the Norns."

Clint smiled. "I don't think we can give the Norns credit for this, actually." Loki looked away, but not before Clint saw the faint rosy tinge to his cheeks. "Loki," Clint said softly, drawing the prince to look back at him. When their eyes met, Clint asked, "What did you do?"

The black-haired man bit his lip, looking strangely vulnerable. He cleared his throat and looked off to the window, blinking rapidly. "You were dying," Loki said matter-of-factly. "Edith was doing all that she could, but we all knew what the end result was going to be. We couldn't get ahold of Tyr, Mother was at a loss, the Norns weren't listening to our prayers. So I made the them listen. I made the Universe listen."

" _Art is when you listen to the Universe. Magic is when the Universe listens to you_ ," Clint murmured, remembering an old Vanir phrase Loki had shared with him a long time ago.

Loki smiled slightly, but still didn't look at him. "Quite right." He fell silent for a few moments. Then, "The Universe is not meant to be commanded. There is seidr in all matter; it is a gift from the Universe, a gift that some people are honored with the privilege of utilizing, of controlling. Some do it better than others, some are stronger. It is something  _I_ am honored to have. The Universe gifted a piece of Itself to be controlled, but It, in Itself, is not meant to be commanded."

His smile twisted minutely, slightly unpleasant. "The Universe does not listen to people, because in the grand scheme of things people are fleeting and unimportant and the Universe is eternal." Now, Loki looked at Clint, and the marksman could not quite describe what the complex intensity on the prince's face meant, but it was heavy and  _important,_ somehow. And when he opened his mouth to speak again, his eyes glowed with otherworldly power.

"I am Loki Odinson. I am a god made of Magic and Chaos. I walk in the balance of Renewal and Change. I upend the rules that do not suit me to make way for a new path of Being. I am the Silvertongue, the Fire-Bringer, the Liesmith, the wielder of Gram and the guardian of Chaos. And the Universe  _will_ listen to me if I so command it."

Carefully, Clint took Loki's hand in his, and then brought it up to place the long fingers over his heart. He held the hand against his pulse firmly. Loki continued to look at him with that  _Other_ expression, the shimmering eyes and stone-faced gaze. His heart was beating incredibly quickly; he wasn't afraidhe would  _never_ be afraid of Lokibut there was something happening inside the prince, and Clint needed to bring him back from it.

As was the marksman's intention, feeling Clint's heartbeat seemed to ground Loki, and the glow faded from his eyes, his features softening. "I'm right here, Loki," Clint told him quietly. "And I'm not going anywhere, not anytime soon." Loki's eyes slid shut and he nodded tiredly, his entire body relaxing.

"I found you," he whispered, as if reassuring himself.

Clint squeezed his hand. "You did," he confirmed.

"I love you," Loki told him, so quiet that Clint barely caught the words.

Gently, with slow, careful movements, Clint pulled Loki to lie down next to him, and then curled against him, holding Loki tightly. He stroked a hand through the prince's hair, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

"I love you too," he told him, and almost wept from joy, because how many times had he wished to be able to openly say those words to Loki? How many times had he wished to hear Loki say them? How many times had he hoped for Loki to be  _his?_

"Get some rest," he whispered. He brushed his lips against Loki's in a brief, soft kiss. Loki sighed contentedly against his mouth. "I'm right here. Get some sleep. I'll still be here when you wake up."

And, trusting Clint's word implicitly like he rarely did with anyone, Loki murmured a final  _'I love you'_ and then drifted off to sleep.

And, true to his word, Clint did not move from his spot wrapped around the black-haired prince, marveling at the fact that he could.


End file.
